


The Demon Sat

by overused_underrated



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), End of the World, Gay, Hurt Crowley, M/M, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 18:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overused_underrated/pseuds/overused_underrated
Summary: A small piece inspired by the works of @aiwa_sensei and @kokosir (both on instagram)The demon watched as the flood began. His heart ached.





	The Demon Sat

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Untitled Good Omens Art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/527195) by @kokosir. 
  * Inspired by [He will miss those unicorns](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/527198) by @aiwa_sensei. 

The demon sat there. The sky above was unforgiving and grey. Thunder and lightning raged war in the atmosphere as rain fell, the earth bearing witness. It collected in drops that turned to pools that transformed into streams which melded into a river. And the demon sat. 

He sat on a rock and watched. They were gone. They were all gone. The Mesopotamians. The Chinese. The Indians. They were all gone. The demon sat.

He didn’t notice the rain, at first. He had assumed that what he felt was his own tears. How could he have known that the world was crying too? The rain soaked through his robes, and then his cloak. It gathered in drops and multiplied. It wasn’t long before the pools covered his feet, then his ankles. The demon sat.

He sat as he felt the ground ache. She wasn’t taking any chances. The rain was just a step in Her plan. In  _ the  _ Plan. The ground had quaked, fires raged, and now it was raining. A last resort,  _ of sorts _ . She is as she always was: unforgiving. He tried to help. He rounded up children; he got scratched and bitten on the ark while managing to stow some away. He had been burned by the raging fires, but he rescued elderly from their engulfed homes. He damaged and lost handfuls of feathers, nevertheless he searched and found those lost in the debris from fallen buildings. The demon sat.

The demon sat, aching in the loss of the world. He sat, lost in the weight of his failures. The demon sat and cried. The water rose up, over his calves. He sat and watched. He wanted to be swallowed whole and left to rot in the belly of the world. What good was there in existing in a world where children are killed relentlessly? Who  _ could _ work for and love someone who would cause this much suffering, and for what? The demon sat, crying at the truth of the world: She was willing to cast out anyone, no matter how innocent.

The demon sat, willing and wanting the water to consume him. He had been alone, left only with his thoughts and pain. Everyone was gone. There was only the demon, the water, and the ark. Then, from the darkness, there was a hand on the demon’s shoulder. The hand of Aziraphale- bearer of the flaming sword who bequeathed it to the humans as a gift for a chance of survival. The angel sat with the demon. Together they cried for the world. 


End file.
